


hot pain and gentle hands

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: "i'm sorry i didn't know", Broken Bones, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Whump, doesn't have to be i guess but i love them together and that's how i wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: febuwhump day 10: "i'm sorry, i didn't know."He could text Alex and tell him he’s just not feeling well tonight, but then Alex would askwhat’s the matter?and probably get concerned for him and Kylereallydoesn’t want that. So he’ll suck it up. And he’ll ice his damn ribs.
Relationships: Alex Manes & Kyle Valenti
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	hot pain and gentle hands

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! i am such a sucker for kylex, i just love them so so much!! tbh i started this fic with no idea where it was going but overall i kinda like how it turned out!! i hope you enjoy :)

It hurts. A burning kind of pain that radiates out from his right ribcage all throughout his torso, hot and constant and spiking in intensity whenever he tries to breathe.  _ Broken ribs, _ he thinks, dismally.  _ Why? _ Anything  _ but  _ broken ribs would be fine. Pretty much any other kind of break can have something done about it. But for this? He can take a couple ibuprofen and set an ice pack on them and get back to work. 

Not that he particularly  _ should, _ with broken ribs. A few days off is wise, as is getting checked out by a colleague, but to be honest he doesn’t feel like telling anyone. He doesn’t have any internal bleeding and nothing’s poking out of his skin, so he’s fine. He’s _ fine. _

Except that his whole chest hurts every time he breathes, let alone speaks, or, god forbid,  _ walks. _ But he has to do all three of those things, because he’s got work today, and then he and Alex are hanging out tonight. He’s not about to skip either of those things.

Work  _ sucks. _ There’s no sugarcoating it. He hides his injury as well as he can, excusing his awkward posture, slight limp, and occasional wince as being products of a late, sleepless night, and if his colleagues doubt him, they’re kind enough not to say anything. 

Everything goes about as well as it can go until around lunch. He’s operating, a procedure he’s done so many times he could do it in his sleep, but he can’t fully extend his right arm or he’s pretty sure his whole chest will tear in two. He tries to ignore it, but he swears he’s on fire, and he drops his scalpel right on top of the patient. 

Nothing bad happens, but a fellow doctor gives him a curious look. He reaches for the scalpel and can’t quite hide a wince as he stretches out his side a little too much.

“Are you alright, Dr. Valenti?”

“Fine,” he says, a little more snappishly than he’d intended. He bites down on his lip to stop himself from making any more noise and stubbornly blinks away the tears of pain that have formed unwillingly in his eyes. 

The rest of the procedure goes off without a hitch, but Kyle can’t quite escape from the other doctor afterwards. 

“You sure you’re okay? I saw you wince when you reached for that scalpel.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” he says, as casually as he can, not wanting a repeat of his reply from before. “Just slept a little weird.”

“Thought you didn’t sleep at all.”

“Barely,” he says. “I  _ barely  _ slept. What I  _ did  _ get...not the best.”

Evidently this is a sufficient explanation, as the other doctor leaves him alone to go grab lunch. Kyle is definitely not hungry, so he skips out, hiding in the locker room until his break’s over. 

He gets home shortly after six, now slightly hungry, but unwilling to eat, lest it cause him  _ more  _ pain. The whole drive home his seatbelt had pressed against the lower side of his ribs, jostling them whenever he’d come to a stop. It hadn’t bothered him too much that morning, but evidently all of the ibuprofen is wearing off. He just wants everything to  _ stop hurting. _

He limps his way through the door, not bothering to take off his shoes or remove anything from his pockets. He makes a beeline for the bathroom, where he again takes too much ibuprofen and carefully lifts up his shirt to inspect his injury.

His entire right side is a vivid purple with the occasional splotch of red. It’s slightly swollen and excruciatingly painful to touch.  _ God, _ it hurts. 

He very slowly makes his way to the couch, stopping by the freezer for a soft ice pack. He lies down carefully and places the ice pack onto his ribs, through his shirt so as not to freeze his skin off. Which would be  _ just  _ what he needs, he thinks. 

The light contact of the ice pack hurts like he’s been punched, and its steady pressure is almost unbearable. He lets out a groan of pain and finally gives in to the hot tears building behind his eyes. Even so, he leaves the ice pack on. It’ll help in the long run, and he’s still got things to do today.

Things which he could very easily cancel. He could text Alex and tell him he’s just not feeling well tonight, but then Alex would ask  _ what’s the matter? _ and probably get concerned for him and Kyle  _ really  _ doesn’t want that. So he’ll suck it up. And he’ll ice his damn ribs. 

At 6:30, Kyle lifts himself up off of the couch as gently as he possibly can. It hurts anyway, but slightly less thanks to the time spent with the ice. He’s wearing the clothes he’d worn to work, which are slightly out of place for the Wild Pony, but there’s no way he’s changing again (into and out of his scrubs had been painful enough, especially with the added pressure of making sure nobody was around to see the rather horrific colors painting his torso). So the work clothes stay on.

He climbs into his car, wishing he didn’t care so much about his own personal safety as he buckles his seatbelt, which again presses itself uncomfortably against his ribs. He drives, doing his best to make the ride as smooth as he possibly can.

He arrives at the Pony five minutes late and slightly sweaty and feeling fairly  _ awful. _ Still. He can’t help smiling when he sees Alex sitting in a booth, waving at him. He nods in response, not wanting to lift his hand. 

Kyle sinks down into the booth across from Alex, hiding a wince. 

“How was your day?” Alex asks, as one of the waiters comes up to them.

“Pretty boring. One surgery, a consult, no emergencies.”

“That’s good,” Alex says, as they order their drinks and some snacks. 

Kyle nods. Neither of them says anything for what feels like an age. It’s awkward. He can practically  _ feel  _ the tension in the air. But he  _ really  _ doesn’t want to talk. It  _ hurts.  _

“So…” Alex says, but evidently can’t think of anything to say after that.

“So,” Kyle replies, softly. He blinks hard as a slightly more intense wave of pain hits his side. Their drinks arrive, and he takes a big sip, hoping to cool off his ribs from the inside.

Which does  _ not  _ happen. In fact, the movement only makes them hurt worse, and he  _ knows  _ he doesn’t hide his wince.

But Alex, apparently sensing that Kyle doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t push.  _ God, he’s so nice.  _ And here Kyle is, acting like he doesn’t care about anything and not talking just because, what? His ribs may very well be on fire?

“Hey, I finally watched Star Wars,” he says at last, grinning, stubbornly ignoring the spike of pain in his ribs. 

“Oh really?” 

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“Tell me  _ one thing _ that happened.”

“Let’s see...some planet got blown up.”

“You’re going to have to be a little bit more specific.”

Kyle racks his brain. “It was red?” he says, at last, not entirely sure of that fact. “Winona Ryder died,” he recalls. 

Alex laughs out loud, and Kyle can’t help grinning along. “What?” he asks. “What’s so funny about Winona Ryder dying?” 

“Kyle, that’s Star  _ Trek. _ And not exactly the best Star Trek, either.”

“Oh.” He smiles a little more. “Which  _ is  _ the best one, then?”

Alex goes off on a fair tirade of the various pieces of media in the Star Trek franchise. If Kyle’s being honest, he only follows about half of it, but Alex is clearly into it and kind of ridiculously passionate about which show is better than which other show, and which character was done so poorly in this rendition, and it’s incredibly endearing, so Kyle just pays as much attention as he can, asking questions whenever he feels able. 

On top of it being nice to hear Alex so enthusiastic, the conversation is also a nice distraction from the pain in his ribs, which has only increased due to all the talking. The fire has spread out and gotten hotter and he can barely stand it, but focusing on Alex helps. 

Their food arrives. Alex chews a fry thoughtfully as he explains the merits of  _ The Animated Series.  _

“...so there’s these close-ups, right? And it’s like, their entire face fills the screen at this dramatic moment, and…”

Eventually, Alex runs out of things to say about Star Trek, and Kyle runs out of questions to ask to keep him going, and the conversation, rather unfortunately, turns to him. 

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Alex observes, and pushes their basket of fries closer to Kyle.

“I’m not really hungry,” he says, though he carefully picks up a fry. He  _ is  _ hungry, truly, but he doesn’t want to figure out what it feels like to eat with broken ribs. 

“You should still try to eat something,” Alex points out. “You look a little pale.”

Kyle pretends to be affronted, throwing the fry very lightly across the table, where it lands on Alex’s lap. 

“Nice try,” Alex says. “Eat something, Kyle.”

He’d sigh in exasperation, if it weren’t for the fact that it would hurt like hell. He very slowly picks up a fry and bites it. Not too bad, he decides, swallowing. And  _ yeah, _ that hurts a little more. He barely stops himself from putting a hand to his side in an effort to make the pain stop. 

He doesn’t eat any more. Alex doesn’t try to make him, though he does reach out a hand across the table, putting it to Kyle’s forehead.

“I’m a  _ doctor, _ Alex. I think I’d know if I was sick.” 

“Hm,” Alex says, like he doesn’t believe that. “Maybe you’d  _ know  _ it,” he continues. “Don’t know if you’d do anything about it.”

Kyle can’t fault his logic on that. Not when he’s sitting here with broken ribs that hurt and hurt  _ and hurt, _ because he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone and he hadn’t wanted to cancel on Alex. 

Their conversation moves on from that naturally enough, and eventually they find themselves at a natural stopping point. They pay for their food, and Alex stands up. Kyle takes a second to build up the strength to make himself stand, and then does it, shutting his eyes instinctively against the pain. 

Alex’s hand is on his arm when he opens them. “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay?” he asks, looking like he’s not going to believe Kyle’s answer.

“I’m sure,” Kyle says. “I’m  _ so  _ okay. I’m super.”

“Sure,” Alex replies. “That sounded  _ so  _ convincing.”

“I’m fine, I swear.”

“If you say so.”

They make their way out to the parking lot, where Alex leans up against the driver’s side of Kyle’s car. 

“Hey!”

“I’m not letting you get in until you tell me what’s up with you.”

Kyle is  _ so  _ not in the mood for this. He walks around to the passenger side, intending on climbing across. Which is a  _ really  _ horrible idea. He gets one leg over the center console and reaches out an arm to balance himself, and his whole world goes white with pain. 

He slowly sinks back into the passenger seat, feeling his body shaking involuntarily. The too-familiar hot tears of pain are pouring down his cheeks, and he’s trying not to take the shuddering breaths his body so desperately needs, because they’ll only make the pain worse. 

Alex’s hand is on his arm again, and then Alex is turning Kyle’s body so he’s facing out of the passenger door, towards him. Kyle knows this only because he can feel a slight breeze on his face, since his eyes are screwed shut against the pain. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alex asks, and his voice is as soft as anything. “What’s wrong, Kyle?”

He can’t speak. It hurts too much. His face is burning from tears and from shame and his chest is burning with horrible pain and it hurts _ so much _ and he just wants it to stop and -

Then it’s worse, it’s worse, it’s  _ so much worse. _ Alex’s arms are around him in a gesture that would be the most comforting thing in the world were it not for the sheer amount of pain their presence is generating. He must scream, because all of a sudden Alex’s arms draw back. 

Kyle risks opening his eyes, hoping Alex hasn’t left completely. He doesn’t want to be alone. 

“Kyle, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

He nods, minutely, and sees Alex’s face fall through a haze of tears.  _ It’s not your fault, _ he thinks desperately.  _ You didn’t know.  _

“Are you hurt? I mean, were you hurt before?”

Another small nod.

“I’m sorry, Kyle, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Alex sounds pained, almost like he doesn’t think Kyle will believe him. 

That gets through the pain enough to let him speak. “Not your fault,” he whispers. “Didn’t...wanna tell you.”

Alex shakes his head. “I should’ve seen that you were hurting,” he says. “And then I went and made it worse, thinking your pain was just emotional and that maybe you just needed a hug.” He scoffs, like he thinks that was a stupid line of reasoning.

“Alex,” Kyle says, forcing his voice to be a little stronger. “Shut up. Y’ were helping.”

“But-”

_ “No.” _

Alex sighs in defeat. “Okay,” he concedes. “Not my fault.”

“Mine,” Kyle says.

“That’s not how this works,” Alex protests. “How is it your fault?” he asks, after a beat.

“Stupid,” Kyle mumbles. “Fell ‘n hit my ribs...knew they were broken...didn’t tell anyone.”

_ “Kyle,” _ Alex says, a mix between exasperated and worried. “Why not?”

He’d shrug, were he physically capable. “Didn’t want to.”

“What do you want me to do?” 

“Don’ need the hospital. Nothing to do about it. Jus’...wanna go home.”

“Okay,” Alex agrees, not even for a second insisting that they do anything else. “We’ll leave my car here. Give me your keys.”

Kyle lets go of the keys he hadn’t realized he was still holding. They’ve left red marks on his palm where they’d dug into his closed fist. 

Alex takes the keys and very gently pushes Kyle’s body to face the front of the car, and then brushes his hair off of his forehead with a light touch that feels like the nicest thing in the world to his warm skin. Alex starts the car, reaching across Kyle to buckle his seatbelt, which now presses against his left side and is a great deal less painful. 

“So it’s your ribs,” Alex says, after they’ve been driving for a few minutes.

“Yeah.”

“And they’re  _ broken.” _

“Yeah.”

Alex leaves the conversation at that, though something in his tone tells Kyle they’re not done talking about all of this. The rest of the ride home is quiet, though not uncomfortable, except of course for the pain, which still increases every time there’s a slight bump in the road or the car changes speeds. He’s crying again, though it’s entirely possible he never stopped. 

They reach Kyle’s place, and Alex helps him navigate his way to the door. It’s an incredibly painful journey, but Kyle tries his best not to lean too heavily into Alex, mindful of his leg and not in the mood to be the cause of any more pain. 

Alex slips his hand into Kyle’s pocket and grabs his house key, then wraps his arm around Kyle’s waist as he starts to list to the side. He inserts the key into the lock and turns it, then leads Kyle inside and directly to the couch.

Kyle very carefully sinks down onto the couch in a sitting position. He hears Alex walking around, apparently gathering...things, and then sees Alex standing in front of him with his arms full of various medical supplies, food, a bottle of water, a blanket…

He moves to say something, but Alex interrupts him. “I know you said you can’t do anything about your ribs, but I’ve got some ice for any swelling and some pain meds and some food and water because you really  _ do  _ need to eat, and blankets so you can sleep out here…” He trails off. Kyle gives him a little smile, for once glad there are still tears dripping down his face, so Alex won’t see him again tearing up at his sheer  _ kindness.  _

Alex gets to work in a very businesslike manner, stuffing a pillow up against the arm of the couch and guiding Kyle to lie back against it, picking up his legs and setting them onto the couch. He pulls off Kyle’s shoes and very gently undoes the buttons of his shirt, until it’s open enough to reveal his bruised side, which can’t look any better than it had earlier, if Alex’s horrified gasp is anything to go by.

_ “Kyle.” _

“‘S bad. I know.”

Fingers gently touch the bruise, not hurting as much as Kyle expects. They’re cool against the burning feeling, and they don’t press into it. Alex drapes a soft hand towel over the bruise, then lies an ice pack atop it. 

Kyle is familiar with the sensation, having done a similar thing earlier, but it still  _ hurts.  _ He sucks in a sharp breath, which of course only exacerbates the pain. 

Alex’s hand moves to his face, cupping it with that same gentleness. “I know it hurts,” he says, “but it’ll help. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Kyle whispers back, because he  _ does  _ know. That doesn’t stop it from hurting, though. 

As though reading that thought, Alex holds out an opened bottle of ibuprofen. “You’ve probably taken way too many of these today, but I trust you’re not going to overdose.”

He lets Alex shake two of the pills into his hand, which he very carefully and slowly reaches up to his mouth. He swallows the pills dry, which is a terrible mistake. He coughs on them and feels his ribs explode with pain again. He groans. He is so damn tired of this. 

Alex’s hand is back, wiping away the fresh tears of pain from his face. “Easy,” he says, and holds out a bottle of water. Kyle takes it with a shaking hand and can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when Alex’s hand joins it, helping him lift it to his mouth. 

He drinks a little water and feels the pain minutely recede. Alex pulls the bottle away, and Kyle leans his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes.

“I’m not gonna make you eat anything right now,” Alex says, and he holds up the assortment of items he’d brought from the kitchen. “But I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything all day, so when you wake up you  _ are  _ going to eat. Okay?”

Though it’s phrased as a question, Kyle knows full well it isn’t. “Okay,” he agrees. 

“Good,” Alex replies, and puts a soft hand in his hair. “Now sleep. I’ll be here to remind you of that promise when you wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaa thanks so much for reading this!!! i feel like i need to do more writing from alex's pov and get a better hold of his character but i absolutely Love his and kyle's relationship and everything and i like the idea that they'd be really soft and sweet with each other when they've really become friends again.....one can hope. anyhow thanks again for reading!! hope you liked it!


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